Toska
by TheHeart'sCompass
Summary: Without skating, what does Yuuri have? After a career-ending injury, Yuuri is left to find the answer. Meanwhile, Viktor has never been more in his prime. Yet, his passion for skating has been steadily dying, and after failing to reignite that flame, he's announced his retirement at the end of this season. Perhaps an unexpected encounter will make them both reconsider.


_Toska - 1_

Each time he relived the event, Yuuri remembered the sound differently. Most times, it resembled the crack of a tree branch that failed to hold against the onslaught of a hurricane. When he was more calm, he could tame the sound down to the crackle of a log splitting in a well-fed fire. If he felt numb, there sometimes wouldn't even be a sound, just an echo where it should have been.

Today, he heard it like a gunshot.

The sharp crack barely gave Yuuri any pause. So caught up in the flow of his routine, he gave the sound an easy dismissal. The protest of ice yielding under his blade, he thought. Feeling the sound reverberate up through his body actually fueled a rush of excitement, not fear. It was a common thrill, the sensation of his skate connecting with the ice after a difficult jump. In these moments, when that sound of accomplishment rang out for both himself and the audience to hear, Yuuri felt unstoppable. So, it was with delayed confusion that Yuuri registered himself falling.

Ice bit into skin as his momentum hurled him to the ground, a mess of tumbling limbs that finally found rest with a heavy thud against the side boards. Yuuri lay there, watching tiny puffs of condensation dissipate as he regained the air that had been knocked out of him. A nagging thought, urging Yuuri to vault back to his feet and continue the routine, was drowned away by his sudden fascination with the ceiling beams. Inexplicably, they became all that he could see, the edges of his vision fading away to block out any possible distractions. Time passed, neither slowly or quickly, and smudged faces began obscuring his view. Distressed hands and voices washed over him in a dizzying haze, and Yuuri remained still as he was slowly drawn back to his senses.

Warm and cold was all he could distinguish at first. He could feel the chill of the ice against his back and how it was slowly seeping through his body. Someone had draped a blanket over him to try to combat this; Yuuri couldn't tell if it was working. He could, however, feel hot tears running down his cheeks and a similar wet warmth on his leg. Once his attention was focused on his leg, blistering tendrils of pain surged forward, as though they had been waiting to be called upon. His mind finally beginning to reconnect with his body, Yuuri attempted to crane his head to see the source of everyone's worrying.

Yuuri could see the tip of bone protruding out where the medics had cut away his costume. All it took was that one look to know—he was done. His career was over. Instantly, his head fell back, and his eyes screwed shut to let loose another wave of tears. The pain in his leg was forgotten, replaced by a new agony.

 _Crack!_

Unexpectedly, the gunshot rang out a second time, startling Yuuri awake in a cold sweat. Gasping like a drowning man coming up for air, Yuuri took in his surroundings. Where he had moments ago felt hard ice, there was a cushioning mattress. The rink's illuminating lights were replaced with the dim glow of day peaking around closed blinds. Cruelly, the throbbing in his leg still remained. He must have kicked during the night. A quick rapping of knuckles against the door, the sound he likely woke to, brought Yuri back to the present.

"Yuuri? Are you awake yet?"

Yuuri dragged the comforter over his face, wiping away the sweat. "I am now." The tone was meant to be joking, but his words croaked out, a dry throat betraying him. Swallowing hard, Yuuri tried again. "Come on in."

His mother peaked in slowly, letting the smell of scrambled eggs waft in after her. Yuuri put on a reassuring smile as she moved to open the blinds. "Sorry to wake you," she apologized. "It was just getting late, and you still need time to get ready."

 _Get ready?... Oh, right._

"No, it's fine," Yuuri quickly assured. "Probably best that you did. What time is it?"

"Nearly three," she answered.

Yuuri nodded. The new painkillers were effective, but the doctor had warned there would be extreme drowsiness. He had been sleeping past noon every day this week. Propping a pillow behind him, Yuuri sat up so his mom could place the steaming plate of breakfast on his lap. She then handed him a bottle of water that was sitting on his bedside table and insistently held out a dose of said painkillers.

"I don't want to take anything today," he said, waving it off. "I want to actually be awake to see his performance."

" _Yuuri,_ you should—"

"How about just some ibuprofen?" Yuuri offered, willing to compromise. The earnest look he gave her didn't really allow his mom room to say no.

"Fine," she huffed. "But throwing a glass of water on a house fire doesn't do much good," she admonished as she moved to swap medication. She had only been out of the room for a second before her head darted back in. "Minako is waiting downstairs, by the way." Her fingers drummed restlessly on the door frame. That clearly wasn't all she wanted to say.

"Mom?" Yuuri prompted. "Something on your mind?"

"Oh, nothing!" Her automatic response was contradicted by the way she fussed with the hem of her shirt. Yuuri raised an unconvinced eyebrow. "It's just that... Are you sure this is what you really want? Maybe you shouldn't go."

Yuuri gave a light chuckle. "Mom, I'm going. There's no need to worry about me." She failed to notice that he had dodged her first question. Leaning over to fish out the tickets from a drawer, Yuuri held them up for emphasis. "It'd be a waste of a ticket otherwise."

"Someone else could go in your place."

"I'm going," Yuuri repeated, this time more serious. He had made up his mind.

Her concern, he knew, wasn't actually about him going to see the performance. It was about the promise he had made to himself when buying these tickets—after watching Viktor perform one last time, Yuuri would hang up his skates for good.

* * *

"Why are we heading around back?" Yuuri's face scrunched up in confusion as he stared out the window. Only the staff and athletes normally went through the back entrance.

Minako didn't alter her driving. "I called ahead and asked if we could go through this way to avoid a crowd," she said as she swung into the lot. "I also may or may not have swapped your seat for a club suite instead."

"Minako!"

"What?! They offered! I didn't think you'd say no to a room with a view, comfy chairs, and free food!"

"They only offered because you used my name," Yuuri countered. Running a hand through his hair, Yuuri slumped down in his seat. "Minako, this might be a charity event, but I'm not the charity case, okay? I wanted this to be normal. I'm just a fan going to see his idol skate." Maybe that was oversimplifying his whole calling-it-quits deal, but Yuuri didn't feel like addressing that outloud.

There was a moment of silence as they wove around looking for a parking spot, and Minako shifted uncomfortably. "So, I guess I shouldn't have arranged a meeting with Viktor either?" she confessed.

Yuuri shot upright. "You did _what?"_

"I thought it would help give you closure! That's what this is all about, right?"

"Well, yeah, I guess, but not like that," Yuuri exclaimed. "It would be embarrassing! 'Hey, remember me? I'm that one guy who competed against you, broke my leg, and would've placed dead last either way. Nice to meet you!'"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'll cancel it, I promise." Minako pulled into a spot and wrangled out the keys with a heavy sigh. She looked over to Yuuri. "I don't know what I'm doing," she admitted. "I got you into figure skating, and I've supported you the whole way. Through every up and down, I've been there, pushing you to keep going and never quit." She paused. "But now, you've decided to walk away from everything. And I might not know how to help with this, but that doesn't mean I'm not trying. Nothing has changed—I'm still here to support you, Yuuri."

Moisture welled up in his eyes faster than he could blink it away. Yuuri dragged his sleeve under his glasses. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words could express the gratitude he felt in that moment.

"Careful, kid, your glass heart is showing," Minako warned despite her own eyes having a shine to them. Yuuri couldn't help but laugh, and Minako smiled. Fondly ruffling her student's hair, Minako grabbed her purse from the back seat and opened her door. "Okay, I'll go ask them to cancel everything, and we can enjoy a nice, _normal_ performance just like you wanted."

Yuuri found his voice as she stepped out. "The whole free food thing didn't sound so bad," Yuuri said sheepishly.

Minako swung around to flash an eager thumbs up. "Agreed," she echoed. "We're in Suite 3. I'll meet you up there once I've straightened everything out." In a flash, she was gone, a woman on a mission.

Smiling to himself, Yuuri carefully opened his own door. At a more cautious speed, he maneuvered his crutches to get out. The winter chill caused his bones to ache, so Yuuri braced himself as he stepped out into the wind. He was proud that he felt almost no pain in his sprained left ankle when he put weight on it; finally, he had something to show from a month of healing. His right leg was making progress, of course, but Yuuri still found the plastered mess useless all the same. At the minimum, his doctor predicted another two months until his leg was okay again. "Okay" was a subjective term, however, and a leg indefinitely unfit for competitive skating would never be "okay" in Yuuri's mind.

Yet, despite everything, Yuuri was trying to be optimistic for what was to come. Coming here felt like a step forward, and while that step was away from something he loved deeply, Yuuri couldn't help but think it was in the right direction. He wanted to be past grieving and feeling sorry for himself, and Yuuri knew that if he didn't move on now, he would only risk getting hurt down the line. Seeing Viktor today would give Yuuri a final taste of the best the skating world had to offer and allow him to leave on a much-needed high note.

Yuuri pulled himself out of his head as he made his way through the parking lot, choosing to focus instead on not getting blown away. His hair, a little too long from neglect, kept getting swept into his eyes, but he didn't mind. It felt good to be outside doing something when the majority of his days now consisted of napping and Netflix. Though, as he approached the back entrance, his hair chose an opportune moment to block his view of the oncoming patch of ice.

Instantly, Yuuri felt the loss, his left crutch flying out from under him the second it touched down. He knew from the way his stomach dropped that this wouldn't be like a graceful fall from a poorly landed jump—no, he was going down _hard_. Some invisible tether yanked Yuuri toward the ground, leaving him only time to close his eyes and brace himself for the crack of his head against cement... The sound never came. Instead, Yuuri felt the pressure of an arm tensed around his shoulders and a puff of steam against his neck.

"Careful," the word accompanied another caress of heat. "Ice can be quite slippery. Trust me, I'm somewhat of an expert." The voice had a lilt to it, mostly by means of an accent but with the undeniable help of a smooth grin framing the words. Yuuri could feel the man's chest pressed against his arm, the quickened beat of his heart suggesting the man had made a last minute dash to save him.

A snowflake landing directly on Yuuri's forehead acted as some sort of switch, a delicate reminder of where he was that allowed his trance to be broken. Yuuri's eyes shot open to look up at the sky and then down at his twisted body. He'd been caught about a foot above the ground, his newly healed left ankle stuck underneath him at an awkward angle that would've guaranteed re-injury had any more weight been forced onto it. Yuuri quickly straightened that leg out, as though fearing it was still a possibility. The rearrangement caused him to slip out of the stranger's hold, but as he sat down on the cold pavement, a supporting hand returned to keep him upright.

"Heh," Yuuri let the breath he'd been holding escape in the form of nervous laughter. The sheer luck of it all seemed to dawn on him as he looked himself over, finding the only damage to be scratches on one palm. "Yeah, I seem to have a new talent for falling on ice," he joked before noticing the extended hand next to his face. Taking it, Yuuri was awkwardly helped back to his feet after wrestling a crutch for balance. Only then did he remember his manners. Dropping into the best bow he could manage, Yuuri immediately gushed with gratitude. "Th-thank you for all your trouble, I—"

"No trouble at all," he replied easily.

"No! Please, let me repay you," Yuuri insisted.

Another wave was about to be let loose, but the words died on his lips as Yuuri lifted his head and looked not into the eyes of a stranger, but Viktor Nikiforov. _The_ Viktor Nikiforov stood there in crisp warm-up attire, hair appearing purposefully tousled by the breeze, sporting an easy smile, looking at him with cool blue eyes that gave Yuuri a chill he couldn't pass off on the snow.

In that moment, Yuuri was suddenly very aware of his wind-mussed hair, the slight puffiness of his eyes, the smudge of blood on his palm, the uncomfortable bulge of his cast that he'd forced under his sweatpants, and the very obvious fact that he'd just fallen and made a fool of himself in front of his idol.

On second thought, maybe the meeting Minako had arranged wouldn't have been that embarrassing after all.

* * *

 **A/N: _(~5 Months Ago) Me: I've been inspired! I'm writing a thing for YoI!_ _Roommate: YEEESSSSS! Me: I'm breaking his legs! Roommate: NOOOOOO!_**

 **So I wrote this a while ago and have just been sitting on it... My bad. I remembered it around two months ago, but realized I still hadn't written a description, got stuck (yea I'm a weakling that lets a handful of sentences break me), and forgot about it all over again. But I went to Anime Boston this past weekend (A+ experience btw) and was reminded during the Cosplay Chess Match when Alucard killed Yuuri by breaking his legs, then breaking his heart by shooting Viktor in his arms, before shooting him in the head as well. My roommate then cried out into my shoulder, _"NO,_ they took away his legs first! _Just like YOU!_ Why?!"So here you go! Thanks Tiff, now everybody gets to share your suffering!**

 **Anyway, originally I wanted this to be a one-shot, but I felt like cutting it here and then maybe adding another chapter or two down the way. We'll see where this goes.**

 **Also, sorry for doing that thing where I disappear for months at a time. Engineering is tough. Maybe I'll find a balance eventually. Again, my bad.**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


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